


Deepest, darkest secret

by chiara_scuro



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Day 15: hurt/comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Spells Gone Wrong, Truth Spells, Two Shot, Watford Eighth Year, made up spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiara_scuro/pseuds/chiara_scuro
Summary: This spell is exactly what I need for Baz to tell me what he’s up to. I just need to wait for him to get back from his evening rat hunting/plotting activities.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Deepest, darkest secret

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is my work for day 15 of the Carry on countdown! The prompt is hurt/comfort. I was going to write this as a one shot, however, I've been writing the whole day and I'm getting very tired, so I decided to split it into two chapters.  
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes! 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Panic attacks

SIMON

Baz is plotting. I’m sure of it. Why else would he disappear for two months? He was probably sat at home, in his gothic mansion, thinking of spells to dismantle the Anathema or something.

I tried following him around to figure out what he was up to, but the tosser is too good at avoiding me. The only thing I figured out is that he’s no longer on the football team. (Which gives him more spare time for plotting, but really, all he does is sit on the side and watch the game.) (I suppose he could watch the game _and_ plot.) (Surely, he’s capable of multitasking, right?)

It’s driving me mad. I have no idea what he’s up to or where he’s been and I can’t stand it. I need to know, but obviously, he won’t tell me. I considered casting a truth spell on him, but those are dangerous and illegal and maybe that’s exactly what Baz’s plot is; drive me to the point where I’ll use an illegal spell on him and then watch me get locked up in a tower somewhere.

Well, joke’s on him because I found a spell that’s not illegal and that won’t cause him any harm. (It’s important that I don’t set off the Anathema.)

Penny said it isn’t even a truth spell. It just _prompts_ people to tell their secrets, but it doesn't _force_ them.

 _“People are more likely to share their secrets in the dark,”_ she said. _“This is exactly what this spell utilizes, but it wears off after a few hours, regardless of whether the person has revealed their secrets or not.”_

Usually, I tune out when she’s talking about spells, but I was intrigued.

 _“It’s more of a sleepover game spell, of course. Using it to interrogate someone would be highly immoral.”_ She sent me a stern look. I think she knew what my sudden interest in the spell meant.

But I was already convinced. This spell is exactly what I need for Baz to tell me what he’s up to. I just need to wait for him to get back from his evening rat hunting/plotting activities.

It probably won’t work anyway.

I hear Baz’s steps coming up the stairs and grab my wand, tucking it in the waistband of my pyjamas. Moments later, the door to our room opens. Baz scowls when he sees me. He must be surprised that I’m still awake.

“Baz,” I start. He rolls his eyes.

“The extent of your vocabulary is truly mind-blowing, Snow, but if you don’t mind, I’m too tired to listen to your linguistic endeavours tonight,” he says coldly, grabbing his pyjamas from the wardrobe and disappearing into the bathroom.

I feel magic and anger flare up underneath my skin. Can he go one evening without being an arse? I pull my wand out, turning it around in my hand. If this doesn’t work, he’s just going to laugh at me. The thought makes me angrier. Not everyone is a magic genius like Baz fucking Pitch is. I’m trying my best here!

The bathroom door opens and Baz emerges, wearing his posh pyjamas.

“Trying to figure out how it works, Snow?” he asks when he sees me holding my wand. “Staring at it intently won’t do anything. You usually have to cast a spell, you know?”

I growl in response.

“Almost there, Snow. Try words next time.”

That’s it. He had it fucking coming. I point my wand at him and cast “ ** _Tell me your deepest, darkest secret!_** ”

All the lights in the room go out. Baz scoffs.

“Congratulations, Snow. You tried using a sleepover spell on me and all you did is cause a power outage. Truly the greatest mage that ever lived.”

I can hear him feeling for his wand and moments later, I hear him cast **Light of day**. Nothing happens. I try switching on the light. Nothing happens.

“ ** _Fire burn and cauldron bubble_** ,” Baz casts. Nothing.

“Don’t cast fire in the dark! You’re flammable!” I snap at him.

“Everything is flammable, Snow.” It’s pitch dark but I can _hear_ him rolling his eyes. “Well, who would’ve thought your sorry excuse of a spell actually worked. Congratulations. Next time, maybe consider that I’m not a twelve-year-old girl and a little darkness won’t prompt me to spill my heart out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

I can hear his sheets moving as he crawls into bed and I realize that’s probably the best idea. I’m such an idiot. How could I possibly think this would work? He’s a vampire, for fuck’s sake! A creature of the night. I’ve probably just made him more comfortable.

I crawl into my own bed and sigh against the pillow. The spell is going to wear off in a few hours, which means the lights will probably come back on, but that’s a problem for future Simon to deal with.

I pull my duvet up to my shoulders and close my eyes.

BAZ

I can’t sleep. It’s the fucking darkness. It feels suffocating.

It reminds me of the fucking coffin.

Snow is fast asleep, of course he is, the fucking wanker. The bloody fucking idiot. The beautiful, idiotic fucking bastard who thinks I’m up to something and comes to the conclusion that casting a _sleepover spell_ would be the best way to proceed. And he actually makes it fucking work.

Well, of course. It’s a spell even twelve-year-olds can manage. You’d think **deepest, darkest secret** would be a horrible and possibly illegal interrogation spell, but nope, it’s used by little girls at sleepovers so they can exchange secrets in the dark.

The spell wears off after a few hours or when someone in the room shares their deepest, darkest secret. Thank magic the spell is time sensitive, because I’m _never_ sharing my deepest, darkest secrets with Snow.

No, a few hours of total darkness are still a better option than telling Simon Snow that I’m in love with him.

It’s so fucking dark, though. Usually, I can at least see the stars shinning through the window – it’s enough for my vampire senses. Not today, thought. Not an iota of light.

I grip the bedsheets, willing for my heart rate to slow down. I try to sync my breathing with Snow’s.

I don’t know when I fall asleep.

I’m awoken by some sort of clicking. It’s still fucking dark and I soon come to the conclusion that the clicking is Snow trying to turn on the light.

“Stop that, Snow,” I snap at him.

“It’s the morning. I have to go to breakfast!”

Fuck. It _is_ the morning. I can hear walking and chatter coming from beneath us; the sounds of pupils leaving Mummers House to go to breakfast. It’s the morning and Snow’s spell still hasn’t worn off. Panic surges in my throat. No, this can’t be happening. I can’t be stuck in the darkness indefinitely. I just can’t.

“Do you think it’s dark for everyone else too?” Snow asks, snapping me from my spiral.

“No, the spell is limited to the people in the room only. Although you seemed to have broken the time limitations of the spell already so who knows?”

Snow growls in frustration.

“You can hear the others, can’t you? They’re fine,” I say. I don’t know why I’m comforting him – I’m actually fuming. His idiotic spell has put us in the dark indefinitely and if we don’t figure it out soon, I’m going to miss my classes.

“Wait… If the spell is limited to us two, maybe it’s also limited to the room!” Snow exclaims. I hear him jump up and walk to the door and then I hear the door creaking open. Nothing happens.

“Do you see anything?” he asks. I shake my head, then remember he can’t see me.

“No,” I say.

“Fuck. I’m hungry.”

I hear the doors close and Snow’s bed creak moments later. I just sigh. We’re so fucked.

“Okay, Baz, just tell me what you’re plotting so that we can be free of this,” he says.

“Not a chance.”

Snow growls in frustration. “Listen, I don’t even care how you’re planning on killing me, I just want my fucking scones.”

“You change your priorities concerningly fast, Snow, do you know that?”

I can hear his heart rate quicken – he’s getting riled up. Good.

“ _Baz._ ”

“I’m not planning on killing you, Snow, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say. It’s the truth, but the room remains dark.

“You’re lying. It’s still dark,” he states the obvious. I roll my eyes.

“Or maybe it’s not my deepest, darkest secret,” I say mockingly. (It’s definitely not.)

“Yeah, your deepest, darkest secret is that you’re a vampire.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Well, if you aren’t planning on killing me, where were you for the past two months?”

“I was indisposed,” I say through gritted teeth. Indisposed in a dark fucking coffin. The memories are definitely coming back now. The noise coming from the students downstairs reminds me of the rumble of the numpties, a sound which I’ve become all too familiar with in the past two months.

“Plotting my demise,” Snow mutters.

“For Crowley’s snake, Snow, I wasn’t! Get it in that thick head of yours; not everything is about you!” I snap at him.

There’s a knock on the door and we both jump up.

“Simon?” Bunce’s voice sounds from the other side. Interesting. Trust Bunce to break into the Mummers House. “Are you okay? You weren’t at breakfast.”

“I’m fine!” Snow calls back. “I’m sick. So is Baz!”

“You tried the spell, didn’t you?” I can hear the disappointment in her voice. That makes two of us.

“Yes,” Simon says sheepishly. “But it should’ve worn off by now!”

“Can I come in?” she asks.

“No!” we both yell at the same time.

“The spell might take hold on you too,” Snow adds. Well, that’s certainly a better reason for not letting Bunce in than mine is. (I don’t want her to see me when I can’t even see myself. I assume my bed hair is terrible.)

“Fine,” she sighs. “What exactly did you cast? Baz, did you hear where he put the emphasis? This might explain why the spell hasn’t worn off yet.”

“It’s a child’s spell, Bunce, it’s not very emphasis sensitive.”

“So, you’re saying I didn’t fuck it up?” Snow asks, his voice hopeful.

“No, you definitely fucked it up,” I snap at him.

“Simon, what exactly did you cast?” Bunce asks. “Do you remember any of the conversation leading up to it? Anything that could’ve bled into the spell?”

“He just pointed his wand at me and said **Tell me your deepest, darkest secret**. No duel etiquette whatsoever,” I say.

“Fuck,” Penny whispers against the door so quietly I can only hear her thanks to my vampire senses. “Simon, remember how I said this isn’t a truth spell?”

“Yes?” Snow’s voice is hesitant.

“Well, by putting ‘tell me’ in front of it, you made it a truth spell. I don’t think the dark is going to go away until Baz tells you his secret,” she says.

Fuck. Fucking Aleister Crowley and all the Satanists before him. Simon Snow is a fucking imbecile and I’m definitely going to slaugher him.

“Yeah, well, we already tried that. Baz won’t tell me,” Snow says like it’s _my fault_.

“It’s none of your business, Snow,” I snarl at him.

“It is now,” he objects.

“Because you _made_ it your business. You just can’t keep your nose out of things, can you? This is all your fault.”

“Okay, enough!” Bunce yells from the other side of the door. “I’m going to go to the library to research some counter spells. In the meantime, try to work this out. And try not to kill each other!”

“Wait, Penny! Can you bring us food?”

“And homework?” I add.

“What do you need homework for? It’s dark,” Snow says. I roll my eyes at him.

“Shut up, Snow.”

“I already brought you some scones. I’ll leave them outside the door.”

I can hear Snow jump up. “You’re an angel!”

SIMON

Penny leaves to go to classes and I grab my scones. (I have to feel on the ground to find them. She cast a **Some like it hot** on them before she left, bless her.)

Baz must’ve grabbed his wand and is now trying different light casting spells. **Light of day** , **Let there be light** , **Light at the end of the tunnel** and some spells I’ve never heard of before. He tries casting them in French, Greek, Latin and even Arabic.

I’ve never heard him speak Arabic.

Nothing happens, of course. It’s still as dark as it was before. He curses and I hear something clatter against the floor. His wand.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot, Snow, you know that? You can’t just keep to yourself, no, you just have to go around, casting your disastrous spells on others, completely disrespecting their privacy just because you’re too damn paranoid to leave them alone. And you can’t even manage a child’s spell. You’re a sorry excuse of a mage,” he erupts. His voice is sharp and his words feel like daggers to my chest. I swallow my tears. I’m not going to cry in front of him. (Even if he can’t see me.)

And he’s right. This is my fault. I’ve royally fucked it up – like I fuck up most things. Baz has every right to be pissed.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out.

“Sorry won’t fix it, Snow.”

We sit in silence then, me willing myself not to cry and Baz presumably making a list of reasons why he hates me. He’s really worked up – his breath is coming up faster than usual.

Really faster. Too fast for someone who’s angry. And then it changes to deep, shaky breaths, like he’s forcing himself to slow down. It sounds like me when I’m trying to contain my magic.

Fuck. Is he having a panic attack?

“Baz, are you okay?” I ask. I wish I could see him, but I can only hear his breathing, shaky and jagged and all too fast. “Baz?”

“Shut up, Snow,” he chokes out.

“Baz. We’re going to figure it out,” I try. I suck at this. I don’t know how to make him feel better – I don’t even know what prompted this. Is he really that worried about missing classes?

“I said shut up.”

I slide out of my bed and walk over to his. (The small benefit of this is that I know our room well enough to navigate around it, even if it’s dark.) I can hear his breathing clearer now and something’s definitely wrong.

“Baz.”

I don’t wait for his answer, just sit down on his bed. I can’t exactly see where he is, but after patting the duvet a few times, I conclude that he’s sitting in the corner between his bed and the wall. I scoot closer to him – he’s shaking all over.

“Baz, what’s wrong?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, just keeps breathing. I think he might be crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need to fix this. “Okay look. Give me your hand,” I say, only realizing that I can’t fully see where he is and he can’t see where my hands are. I feel around again until I find where his knees are pulled up to his chest and place my hand on them, palm side up.

“Here,” I say. For a moment there’s nothing and I think he’s not going to do it, but then a cold hand meets mine. I take it and bring it to my chest, but he yanks away. “Baz,” I start.

“Your cross,” he chokes out. He’s definitely crying and I feel bad. Wait, did he just confirm he was a vampire?

I decide that’s of secondary concern, though. Right now, I need to make Baz feel okay again. If it means taking off my cross, then so be it.

I let go of his hand and feel for the clasp in my chain. I somehow manage to unfasten it (my hands are shaking) and I toss the cross to the other side of the room. Then I feel for his hand again and bring it to my chest.

“Try to sync up your breathing with mine,” I tell him, taking a deep breath.

Ebb taught me breathing techniques once, in an attempt to control my magic. She put my hand on her chest and told me to breathe in time with her. And she told me to name all the colours I see or count backwards from a hundred by sevens. It all did shit to help control my magic, but I’m glad I know these things now. It might help Baz.

“Count backwards from one hundred,” I tell him. “By subtracting sevens,” I add.

“Snow…”

“Come on, I’ll start you. One hundred. Ninety-three.”

He’s still trying to slow down his breathing so maybe he can’t talk. But then, just when I think he’s not going to say anything, he speaks.

“Eighty-six. Seventy-nine. Seventy-two. Sixty-five. Fifty-eight.” He’s droning off numbers faster than I can check them.

“You’re good at math,” I tell him. His breathing seems to be slowing down too, so it works.

“I like math,” he shrugs. “It makes sense.”

I make a face, even though he can’t see me. “Is that your deepest, darkest secret?”

That makes him laugh a bit. A wet, scoffing laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. I’ll call that a win. “I wish,” he says.

“If you like math, what’s seven times twelve?” I ask. He’s quiet for a second.

“Eighty-four,” he says.

“You can just do that in your head? Cool!”

“It’s not that hard, Snow.” He sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. He also sounds like he’s smiling. (Maybe that’s just my imagination.) (I’d like him to be smiling right now.)

“Okay, let’s try something harder then.” I lift his hand off my chest, but keep holding onto it. I feel like if I let go, I’m going to lose him again. It’s so dark that Baz seems like the most familiar thing.

I’m surprised he hasn’t pushed me away yet. Maybe he needs someone to be there too.

So I stay on his bed, holding his hand and giving him different multiplications, feeling the tension leaving his body.

BAZ

I’m not sure what’s happening. Snow is holding my hand and he’s giving me… math problems?

I do feel better though. I started feeling better the moment he took my hand, just because I knew I wasn’t alone again. I wasn’t in that coffin again.

And he knows how to deal with this. Has he had panic attacks before? Is this why he knows how to calm down from them? The thought is heart-breaking and I involuntarily give his hand a squeeze. He squeezes right back.

“Baz, what was that earlier? Why were you so scared?” he asks suddenly.

“I might… have a problem with darkness,” I admit slowly. (Maybe this spell is right. I never would’ve said this in daylight. There’s something about the darkness that makes it easier to share things.)

“You’re afraid of the dark?” His voice doesn’t sound mocking. It sounds concerned.

“I… yes.”

“Fuck, Baz, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” He sounds so guilty that it makes me actually feel bad for him.

“You couldn’t have known. I wasn’t always afraid of the dark but…” My voice trails off. I don’t know if I want to tell him this, but it’s a secret. It’s not my deepest secret, but it’s the secret he wanted to know, so it might still break the spell. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “This summer, I was kidnapped by numpties. That’s where I was at the start of the school year. They kept me in a coffin for six weeks and it was so dark I couldn’t see anything. I don’t really handle total darkness well since.”

I’m almost disappointed when the lights don’t come on, but I suppose it makes sense. It’s not my deepest, darkest secret. (This spell is needlessly dramatic.)

“Shit, Baz,” Snow breathes out. Then his arms wrap around me and I nearly stop breathing for entirely different reasons. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I wish I knew… I would’ve found you.”

“Simon…”

“I wish I knew.”

We stay hugging in the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> [here's my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vampire-named-gampire)


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